


Paragon

by QueenNoPlot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Blushing, F/M, Gentle Sex, Kissing, Knotting, Oral Sex, Past Sexual Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Rough Sex, Spike - Freeform, Spike Modifications (Transformers), Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Valve Fingering (Transformers), kind of, mentions of - Freeform, valve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23275231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenNoPlot/pseuds/QueenNoPlot
Summary: A collection of PyraOp one-shots set in the same AU but in no particular chronological order.“Collide” made chapter 1, “Insatiable” made chapter 2, and “Unorthodox” made chapter 3 of “Paragon.”
Relationships: Optimus Prime/Pyra Magna
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	Paragon

**Author's Note:**

> This got waaay longer than intended, but I’m proud of it. I will go down with this ship.
> 
> Recommended listening: “Collide” by Rachel Platten.

Optimus enters his unit quietly. For a warframe, at least. He locks the door behind him and continues carefully, straight through the common room to the berthroom. He doesn’t notice until he’s closed the door and turned back around that the femme is awake, and he nearly jumps out of his metal.

“Pyra,” he vents. “I did not mean to wake you.“

“You didn’t.” Her optics lock onto his.

“Oh.” Optimus knows that look. He switches off the light and begins to slowly approach the teal and magenta femme sitting on the edge of the berth. “I see.”

“Don’t give me that,” she growls, standing.

The mech halts just out of her reach. “Give you what?”

“Don’t assume you know what I want.”

“I have received your berth optics enough times to know when you want me on my back.” The Prime holds in a vent, expecting to be tackled.

Pyra narrows her optics and stalks around him. It seems she isn’t playing that game tonight. He can let the air out of his frame.

“I have been processing,” she states from behind him, bringing the lights up to a dim glow. “The respect between us needs to be mutual if this is going to work. In and out of berth.”

“I believe our respect for each other is sufficient.”

“It isn’t.” Pyra comes back into view and stops between the mech and the berth. She turns to face him. “My respect for you is lacking, specifically in the context of our...romance. I demand everything I want of you. I am an inconsiderate interface partner. Don’t try to argue with me on that.”

Optimus nods. “What is your plan?”

“If I love you – and I know I do – it should be easy for me to at least ask politely for what I want. I will try my best to be more considerate of your needs, starting with your spike.”

He stares at her for a klick. “Excuse me?”

“Not once have I allowed you to use your spike during interface,” Pyra says as she steps closer to him. “I have only ever used  my spike for intimacy, and in doing so have been asserting dominance over you.”

The Prime’s been backed into the wall at this point. He doesn’t mind, but the flux in her field says she does.

“I’ve done it again.” She starts to back up but is pulled against him by a servo around her waist. “Optimus, I–“

“Tell me exactly what you want and I will do my best to please you.”

“It isn’t all about me,” she says, lowering her volume in their close proximity. She puts her hands on his chassis. “I want to know what  _you_ want and I want to give that to you. It’s my turn to submit.”

There’s a hand on the back of her helm, the snap of his battlemask sliding away, and his mouth pressing gently to hers. Instigating isn’t his thing. Perhaps that’s because she doesn’t let him, which she doesn’t deny, but it still shocks her. She slowly slides her hand up to his audial and runs her fingers up his earpiece. Optimus responds with a rev of his engine and pulls out of the kiss.

“You are obligated to tell me what you are uncomfortable with,” the mech says sternly. “I do not want to do anything you do not like.”

“If you do something I don’t like, I will tell you,  _ loudly _ . If words escape me, I’ll tell you physically.”

Optimus chuckles. “I expect nothing less.”

He removes his servo from her waist and takes her hand. She pulls him as she steps backwards, then turns them around. The backs of the mech’s knee struts meet the edge of the berth and he sits, watching her with adoration. She puts her hands on his shoulder armor and he prepares for her to rest her weight in his lap, but she alters her course and pulls her mate along until she’s on her back with him on hands and knee struts above her. Her field wavers as she shuts down her frame’s alerts, but she stays still.

“You have permission to touch me,” Pyra says when the Prime doesn’t make a move.

Keeping himself low to her frame, he begins by nuzzling against her neck. The first step to her being comfortable on her back is to encourage her to relax, and getting her to expose her neck is much easier than he expected.

“Would you like to merge?” Optimus asks as he gently smooths a hand down her chassis over her spark chamber.

“No,” she vents. “Not tonight.”

With the damage her spark has taken in the past, he understands. Most pairs frequently jump on the chance to sparkmerge, especially during interface, but it’s a small price to pay to be someone’s second. He doesn’t take offense in the slightest and moves down to her waist, tracing the seams on her sides.

“How is this?” He rumbles against her abdominal plating.

“Just get on with it.” She cuts off her own growl and vents. “ _ Please _ .”

Optimus pulls up, slides his hands over the front of her waist to the insides of her legs, and lies down to kiss the top of her interface panel.

“What my femme requests,” he purrs as he nuzzles slowly down the front of the panel, “she shall receive.”

She doesn’t expect him to  lick  her panel, and it sends a shiver up her spinal strut.

“I know what you’re doing.” Primus, that almost came out like a moan.

“Would you like me to continue?” He asks.

Unable to trust her vocalizer with this mech’s helm between her legs, Pyra looks down at him and nods. With a light blush on her faceplates, she lies her helm back and lets her panel retract.

“Relax,” Optimus says, rubbing her legs in an attempt to soothe her circuits. “It will not hurt, I promise.”

Primus save the mech who left his femme  _scared_ of having her valve touched. He can feel it in her field even after her legs stop trembling. Slowly, with the utmost care, he brings his mouth to her valve, and the first little nudge makes her tense up again. He slips his servos under her legs and puts his hands on her sides. This forces her legs up over his shoulders, giving him better access and allowing her to reach his helm easier should she need to. He sticks to nuzzling and licking her, ever patient through the breem it takes for her to relax again. She’s yet to make more than a shaky vent, but when she relaxes she leaks a fair amount of lubricant.

It takes a while to get to the point of eating her out thoroughly, and by then she’s started making some noise. He waits until she reaches a hand down to his helm to introduce his fingers.

Pyra brings her other hand up to her faceplates and rests the back on her chevron. Once he works in a third finger and pushes deeper, she starts to moan but cuts it off by biting the back of her hand and growling.

“Let me hear you, please?”

She shakes her helm. “You don’t like how I–“

“Pyra.” She flinches and he crawls halfway up her frame, her legs dropping below his sides. “Pyra, listen to me. What he said to you is a load of slag. Do you understand me?”

The femme nods, frame relaxing as she takes a deep vent.

“Good. Now...” The Prime sets a slow pace with his fingers and purrs when her legs lift up to his sides. “I  _love_ hearing you when you take my valve. I cannot imagine how beautiful you will sound when I take yours. So please, let me hear you, Pyra Magna.”

The way he purrs her name makes her valve clench and she lets out a soft sound  very  close to a moan. Both of her hands lift to his helm and she gently grips his earpieces, which makes  him moan a little. He pushes his fingers deeper in appreciation and is rewarded with a full-frame jolt and her hands dropping to grip his shoulders hard.

“ _ Optimus _ ,” she gasps before releasing a loud moan.

Her legs squeeze his sides and her valve leaks an impressive amount of lubricant. He draws his hand back and gently rubs her soaked entrance until she relaxes.

“Did I find your special circuit?”

Now  she purrs, nodding, and slides her ped down to rub his aft. He revs at her, she revs back stronger, and he thrusts his fingers back into her valve, now working thoroughly to prepare her for his spike. Whenever the stretching gets uncomfortable for her, he returns to that sweet spot for a moment. Judging by the way she vocalizes and rubs her legs on him, she loves it. She’s relaxed enough to be releasing the pheromones from her leg vents now. She knows she has nothing to be afraid of. Primus, he likes it when she marks him.

_ Property of Pyra Magna _ .

“Oh, ohh, Optimus!” Her grip on him tightens, he thrusts his fingers faster, and she rewards him with dents in his shoulder armor. “OH, FRAAAG, UHHH!”

The mech fingerfrags her through her overload, wrapping his other servo around her when she arches off the berth. She clutches onto him like her existence depends on it, and a loud crack sounds through the room. Optimus is released, he gently lies her back down, and both warframes scan each other.

“Oh,” Pyra pants, reaching up to his shoulder. “I cracked your armor. I’m sorry.”

“It is not an injury. Forget it happened.” She nods and he smooths his hand down her side. “Are you ready?”

With another nod and a heavy vent, the teal and magenta femme puts a hand on the back of his helm, then pulls him down into a kiss. It’s unusually gentle for her, which distracts him while she sneaks her free hand down to grope his crotch plate, the way she does when she gets impatient.

With an amused growl, he lets his spike panel retract and she takes his extending equipment into her hand. He breaks off the kiss and purrs at the pleasant sensation of her hand sliding up and down his spike, setting off sensors that have been a bit neglected for the few months they’ve been bondmates. He thrusts experimentally into Pyra’s hand. She lets him, tightening her grip on his spike, and he groans. Primus, he wants his spike in her valve, but he reminds himself to go at _her_ pace.

“Do you still want to take my spike?”

Pyra nods.

“Very well.” Optimus gently takes her hand off of him, spreads her legs, and settles between them. “Are you alright like this?”

“I think so.”

He catches the slight waver in her field and leans down to kiss her and nuzzle her neck, his hands rubbing her legs.

“Relax,” he purrs against her sensitive plating. “I will go slow. If you do not like it, I will stop and you may spike me instead.”

The femme nods and wraps her servos around him, fingers latching onto red back plating. With one hand on her pelvic armor and the other guiding his spike, Optimus aligns himself with her valve and begins to slowly, carefully push in. The tip isn’t nearly as wide as his three fingers were, but from there the shaft only thickens, gradually but enough to cause discomfort. The mech pauses at every ridge her valve takes, allowing her to adjust before sliding in the next plated segment.

Between the sensors along his spike lighting up with pleasure and the tiny bit of scraping on his back, it’s a struggle for Optimus to resist his primal instincts and the deep-seated urge to just  _thrust_. He keeps his hand wrapped around the base of his spike on the off chance that his willpower falters against said instincts. If he bucks, he won’t be likely to hurt or frighten her. Startle her, yes, but he won’t surprise her with his full size.

When he’s about halfway in, Pyra drops her hands down to his waist and pulls, her own hips lifting to try to push back on his spike. She groans in frustration when her attempt is blocked by the hand around it.

“Primus,” she vents. “You’re slow...”

“You have not taken a spike in vorns,” Optimus chastises her gently. “You need to pace yourself.”

The teal and magenta femme growls, but she relents and lets him continue to introduce himself one ridge at a time. Finally, their arrays meet, metal scraping as their frames slide into a perfect fit. He keeps still to let her finish adjusting, then tentatively rolls his hips in a minute thrust. Pyra makes a small noise, her field flickers with trepidation, and a moment later she pushes at his chassis.

“Out.”

Optimus pulls out immediately, much to his systems’ chagrin.

“Are you alright?” He asks, moving back when she sits up. “Would you rather–“

She’s already repositioned herself on her hands and knee struts, and his vocalizer protests when she spreads her legs.

“Oh,” he manages after restarting the static out of his vocalizer. “Is this...more comfortable?”

“I asked Windblade for advice,” Pyra vents. “She suggested we use a position that I...don’t associate with my previous sparkmate...”

Optimus gently runs one hand up her spinal strut, as a sort of warning before he moves on top of her, leaning to rest his helm on her shoulder.

“I like this position,” he purrs.

The femme scoffs at him. “I know you do. I can feel your spike on my leg. Get back in me before you chafe yourself.”

“As you command, love.”

He shifts for just a moment before sliding home a little bit too confidently. The sound Pyra makes sends a pulse of fear through his field and he goes stock still.

“Did I hurt you?” Optimus asks.

“No, no,” she says, a hint of mirth in her tone. “You just...you startled me.”

“My apologies,” he vents as he gently nuzzles her audio. “I was trying to go slow.”

A teal hand lifts to pet the side of his faceplates. “I know, sweetspark. Now thrust before I lose interest.”

And thrust he does. Slowly, gently, but he thrusts. He pushes deep, rocking into her before pulling his hips back. He only has to repeat the languid movement a few times before the sensors in her valve begin to light up and receive the charge from his spike. When those sensors have picked up enough charge, the pleasure rolls in.

The pleasure of interface is familiar, but also unfamiliar. The sensation isn’t coming from her spike this time, and yet it feels  _good._ Even with its size, her mate’s spike brings no pain upon her valve. It shouldn’t be the surprise it is, since vorns of not using her valve have allowed it to heal completely and properly.

Then Optimus groans, loud and long, a sound that tapers off into a vent of utter relief. Pyra realizes, with a sudden twinge in her spark, just how good it must feel for him, a mech, to at long last experience the intense pleasure of intercourse through his spike once again. Her spark pulses – he must feel it, because he tightens his grip on her waist and rocks a little faster – and she lowers her chassis until she can cry into the berth.

“Ah...Pyra?” he pants.

She grips the berth sheet and moans. “Faster...!”

Mildly surprised through the haze of pleasure, Optimus obliges. He lowers a hand down and slips his fingers between hers, seeking to heighten the level of intimacy. She seems to respond well to that, returning the squeeze he gives her. Gradually, as Pyra becomes comfortable, the red and blue warframe thrusts faster and harder. Words soon escape them, leaving nothing to be heard but the sweet, rhythmic, cacophonous sounds of their lovemaking, from the clanging and scraping of metal on metal to their moans and groans.

Optimus is successful in delivering his conjunx to her climax before him. She spits out static when her frame goes rigid, then cries out as her charge is released through her valve. He growls at the resistance and continues to thrust, with minimal hindrance thanks to the fresh gush of lubricant from the component clamping down around his spike. His spike sensors pick up the charge released from Pyra’s valve, which boosts him over the edge.

The mech’s overload drives him into vigorous bucking in the few klicks it takes for his transfluid reserve to activate. With a heavy groan, Optimus lands a deep thrust and grinds into Pyra, pleasure and relief coursing through him while he releases. He rubs his faceplates into the back of her neck and slips his servo around her waist, grunting with every jolt of his hips as he wrings out the few final spurts of reproductive fluid.

Pyra lets out a satisfied moan when their mixed fluids begin to leak out around his spike. Optimus remains still, lying on her and panting. His pistons are already complaining about the continued weight on his legs, but he shuts down that alert in favor of another – he’s locked in. She must not have noticed when he magnetized, because she starts to move.

“Wait–“

Her attempt to pull off of his spike is met with a tug in her valve and she yelps out a curse.

“What the frag, Optimus?” She growls. “Get out.”

“I...I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“My spike has magnetized to your valve. If I try to pull out, I could damage you.”

Pyra looks over her shoulder at him with wide optics. “You have  _magnets_?”

He nods. “If we are careful, we can lie down.”

“Please.”

Using the servo around her waist to keep her pinned against him, he slowly guides her and himself onto their sides. He drapes his leg over hers and nuzzles into her neck.

“How long do we have to wait?” Pyra asks.

“No more than a few breems.”

“A few–!” Pyra vents, then continues calmly. “If I end up carrying your offspring because of this, I  _will_ kill you.”

**Author's Note:**

> My only social media account is Twitter (@QueenNoPlot), any others are impersonators!


End file.
